May 12, 1887.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



34S 



New Yorkers and Phiiadelphians scows, I must not be 

 understood to mean canal boats or some other sort of 

 clumsy craft. By no moans. They are broad, flat-bot- 

 tomed, well built Vessels, with square ends sloping toward 

 the water, large and roomy cabins, and furnished with 

 every convenience that money and taste for luxury can 

 provide. Our captain led the way to a neat little propel- 

 ler, the property of my friend, thai was moorei at the 

 wharf with steam up. In this we started for the island, 

 and as we passed the lighthouse and approached the Nar- 

 rows, I could readily perceive how vastly matters had 

 changed from my old remembrance of the place. Now a 

 beautiful modern cottage had replaced the old home- 

 stead, and instead of being ushered into the old dining 

 room with its wide fireplace and blazing, crackling logs 

 and aroma, of buckwheat cakes and flappers, we walk into 

 an elegantly appointed mansion, and the heartfelt expres- 

 sions of hospitality is the only thing that serves to miti- 

 gate the disappointment of the scene. At the dock was 

 moored the large and trim scow, which was in waiting to 

 take us to the flats, her large white sail flapping in the 

 wind. Servants were busied in carrying on board the 

 essentials for a good time and a "good feed." There 

 seemed nothing of the old left, and as I stood upon 

 the bank in the twilight I pictured to myself the 

 old scenes with Dan and Dash and Juno. We 

 left from the wharf about twelve o'clock, and in 

 response to my inquiry of surprise at so early 

 a start I was informed that it was necessary to 

 "get on the fine," so as to pounce upon a place on the 

 flats as soon as the legal hour should arrive. On the 

 scow was a double sinkbox and six hundred decoys. Now 

 this abominable modern contrivance will hold two men, 

 each one of whom has two double breechloading guns, 

 and there are some twenty of these "infernal machines" 

 at Havre de Grace. Can any sane or sensible man, who 

 is at all conversant with the habits of wildfowl, possibly 

 expect these timid, wary creatures to frequent any feed- 

 ing ground, however rich with their favorite food, for 

 any length of time, surrounded and harrassed with such 

 contrivances as these? And what is the natural result of 

 such a comse? Just the luck my friends experienced on 

 that day. The pleasant northwester continued, just the 

 wind for the flats, and all hands expected a big day. I 

 was impelled to leave the round table in the roomy cabin 

 by the sound of the clanking of the chain, which sug- 

 gested that the anchor was being lowered and we had 

 arrived at the border line. Coming on deck I inquired of 

 the Captain "What in the mischief he wanted to nm so 

 close to the town for?" for all around us were lights seen 

 in every direction. The Captain suggested that I had 

 probatory been inspecting a little too much of "Mumm's I 

 Extra,'' and that my vision was clouded. But I pointed I 

 to the numberless lights and he at once appreciated my 

 meaning. "Oh," said he, "those are the lights of the 

 different scows awaiting a chance for a place at 2 o'clock." 

 "Good Lord," said I, "if there are any ducks on these 

 flat- two years from now, I do not know what the habits 

 of ducks are." We secured a good place and the double 

 box was launched and decoys placed in position. As the 

 morning light permitted a view of the surroundings, I 

 eagerly watched our friends in the sinkbox and many 

 others that were within easy sight. But they Avere re- 

 warded with very few shots. Bushwhackers were around, 

 and were paddling on every little bunch of ducks that 

 attempted to light; and there were numerous boats bang- 

 ing away at cripples. Such was the true condition of 

 matters on this, my new visit to the flats. For be it 

 known to you, that now canvasbacks are bringing three 

 dollars a pah - , and the agent at the station is ready to buy 

 all that are offered. This is somewhat different from the 

 olden time, when the cranky old steamer, with its load 

 of passenger cars, would bump up to the landing at Perry- 

 ville. There was no bridge then, nor any agent to buy 

 ducks. 



I was ruminating in this wise when I was aroused from 

 my reveries by a shout from some friends, who had called 

 to pay us a visit from a neighboring scow. They were 

 grand good fellows, and although much younger than 

 myself, they claimed me as "a chum," and I confess to a 

 little vanity for young company, as I do not want to get 

 old. I remember the glorious days of my young man- 

 hcol, when I was full of vigor, and could fol ow my 

 dogs over fields and fences and through the tangled 

 brake; could chimb the hills and mountains, thread 

 the forest, and be thrilled with the bay of the 

 hounds. How my young blood burned when I 

 hooked the trout, as I waded the civilly, pure 

 waters of the Beaverkill, or struggled with the 

 springing bass on the bosom of beautiful Lake 

 George. I have had some genuine sport in my life, and 

 I want to keep young in spirits and not get old. These 

 young companions insisted that I should visit their scow 

 and partake of their hospitality. Ducks were scarce — 

 and no wonder; so the time must be occupied in fun and 

 not in shooting. 



They rowed me over, and a jolly good time we had of 

 it. There were four in their party', and they also had the 

 inevitable double sinkbox. I shall never forget the 

 amusing episode that occurred during this visit, and I am 

 confident that you will enjoy its recital. Among their 

 party was a real good fellow, who was a novice at sink- 

 box-shooting. Like many others of the human family 

 who are fond of good living and good company, he was 

 of a rather corpulent frame; in fact, his measure around 

 the waist was considerably larger than that of any other 

 part of his body. I arrived at the scow just about the 

 time he and his friend were returning from the sinkbox, 

 and, from his appearance, he looked somewhat used up. 

 I inquired the reason for his distress, and he replied 

 he would not give a continental cuss for such sport, 

 if a man had to lie in a coffin for two hours, with a 75- 

 pound weight on his belly, and see no ducks; he did not 

 call that sport, and he wished he were home. It appears 

 that his friend, who was a great wag and always up to 

 some kind of deviltry, when he lay down in his side of 

 the box put a wooden decoy on his corporation, and told 

 Charley that his belly stuck up so high that it would 

 frighten all the ducks, and that he also must comply with 

 the recognized custom. Charley finally, after much per- 

 suasion, consented, and they placed on his belly one of 

 those 50-pound iron decoys that are used to ballast and 

 balance the box. And there lay poor Charley for over an 

 hour, balancing this weight on his corporation. At last, 

 however, human nature could stand it no longer, and 

 Charley declared that if a man had to balance a hun- 

 dred pounds on his stomach for two bows to kill ducks, 



he'd be darned if he would ever make a duck shooter. 

 I came very near tumbling overboard for laughing, and, 

 although we had a good time, I could not help thinking it 

 was pretty rough on Charley. 



I returned to our scow and sail was hoisted and we 

 started for home, but the wind gave out and the sweeps 

 were resort ed to. Within a mile of home the propeller 

 met us and towed us to the dock, and we were again in 

 the beautiful mansion and among kind friends. The 

 result of this day's shooting was thirteen ducks, mostly 

 blackheads. What a change from the old time when 

 Captain Bond could kill 200 canvasbacks and redheads in 

 a single day on these same flats with a No. 10 muzzle- 

 loader. 



The evening was spent in conversation and cards, and 

 I went over the scenes of the old times and compared 

 them with the new. How the surroundings had been 

 improved. But I could not fail to believe that modern 

 improvements were rapidly destroying sport. I started 

 for town the next morning and on my arrival home in 

 my comfortable evening chair, I reflected over what was 

 and what is. Of course, with the growth of great cities 

 and the consequent improvement to the outlying country, 

 game of all kinds will forsake their old haunts and seek 

 the more cpoiet wilderness. But there are many places 

 where nature has placed a bar upon improvement, and it 

 is in such places that game should be rigidly protected 

 against those who seek only to destroy, and who pursue 

 and harras? the fowl by every conceivable device that 

 man can adopt. Oh! if the scroll could be unrolled to the 

 wondering eyes of the present generation of sportsmen. 

 Could they behold the once teeming lakes and streams of 

 the Adirondacks, and the dark, wild forest with its wealth 

 of deer; and beautiful Lake George, a pearl dropping 

 among the green hills, a lovely solitude, so still that the 

 sound of the oars, as we trolled around those lovely 

 islands, awoke the echoes from the hills. The years that 

 have passed, the "good old times." And then compare 

 them with the new. What a contrast! 



To us who have passed the summit and are rapidly ap- 

 proaching the end of the journey, to us the memory of 

 these olden times lends a sweet fragrance to hours of med- 

 itation and repose. We have had our share of the good 

 times and we are deeply grateful. Life to me has been a 

 blessing, and I cannot fail to join in the sentiment of that 

 gifted poetess who wrote in closing her "Ode to Life:" 



"Life! we've been long together, 



Through pleasant and through cloudy weather: 



"Tis hard to part when friends are dear; 



Perhaps will cost a sigh, or tear. 



Then steal away, give little warning, 



Choose thine own time, 



Say not good night, but in some brighter clime 

 Bid me good morning." 



HALCYON DAYS.-V. 



f~|^HE season was well advanced when Chip Mason took 

 X up his abode with old Shack, and a few days af ter- 

 ward the weather began to change. Howling winds and 

 driving snows were succeeded by colder days and freezing 

 weather until at the expiration of a month it was gener- 

 ally accepted as a fact that winter had fairly set in. The 

 stove in the little store began to receive patronage by day 

 as well as by night, for now the farmers had more time 

 to spare, and the business of bartering for the winter's 

 supply of boots and shoes and clothing brought them 

 more frequently and in greater numbers to the dingy 

 little shop, where affable Waxy Latin, whose harvest 

 began as the farmers' ended, stood ready to welcome them 

 and bestow his smiles in proportion to the custom he 

 received. If one could judge by the beaming counte- 

 nances and hearty salutations of those who gathered there, 

 the season had been a bountiful one as well as a busy one. 

 Some there were who, while not distant neighbors, met 

 for the first time in niany days, and the general inquiry 

 concerning the welfare of one and another and their 

 familie?, coupled with the invitation to "come over 'n' 

 see us naow, du," was most frequent. Altogether it was 

 an epoch in the life of the little village, which, occurring 

 but once a year, served to relieve the monotony and fur- 

 nish food for days of gossip. 



I had made frequent visits to the shanty and each time 

 found some improvement in the camp, until its occupants 

 were comfortably situated and well prepared to stand the 

 siege of winter. The shanty had been partially rebuilt 

 and enlarged; the side walls were repaired and the chinks 

 between the logs were filled with a mixture of mud and 

 grass; a door had been added and a new roof of bark 

 replaced the old leaky one, so that the shanty now pre- 

 sented the appearance of a comfortable hut. The little 

 stove was taken from the scow's cabin and set up in the 

 center of the room , and a bunk on either side well filled 

 with straw, made them comfortable beds. Chip had pro- 

 vided himself with a pair of old blankets and a quilt from 

 home, and there was every indication of solid comfort in 

 the surroundings. 



The trapping season had fairly opened, and that the 

 trappers had not been unsuccessful was proven by an in- 

 spection of the anterior of the scow's cabin, which showed 

 numerous bundles of dried pelts and others still stretched 

 and drying. Conspicuous among the peltry thus dis- 

 played and which Chip took especial pride in exhibiting, 

 were two of large size and darker color than any of the 

 rest. They were those of the fisher, or as Old Shack calls 

 them, "cats," the capture of which caused no little pleas- 

 ure and satisfaction to the trappers, for aside from the 

 removal of their thieving depredations among Old Shack's 

 traps, their fur was valuable, many times more than that 

 of then - common quarry. One of these was what Chip 

 had seen and taken for a black mink, the true character 

 of which Old Shack saw fit to keep him in ignorance of 

 until he was fortunate enough to capture them. Chip's 

 gun proved a valuable auxdiary to the camp, for as long 

 as the nuts lasted squirrels were plentiful. Rabbits could 

 be had for the shooting, and until winter had fairly set 

 in they were able to shoot woodchucks in the mornings 

 and evenings. These, with the fish they easily caught, 

 baked "taters" and corn cakes, interspersed with an oc- 

 casional partridge when Chip could get a "settin' shot," 

 made them good fare and was indeed better than Chip 

 had bsen used to at home. Old Shack never left the 

 camp except to visit his traps, but Chip made occasional 

 visits to the village to replenish their store of "Injun 

 meal" and tobacco, and in his brief, characteristic way, 



had told the story of their manner of living, and if his 

 stories were somewhat embellished, it was because of his 

 enthusiasm. 



It was while he was on one of these errands that I 

 dropped into the store one bitter cold morning and found 

 him hugging the stove while waiting for Ms supplies. 

 For better protection against the cold he had borrowed 

 one of old Shack's coats, and while his broad body was 

 nearly sufficient to fill it one way , it reached nearly to 

 his feet the other, and the sleeves being too long were 

 turned up in a thick roll about his wrists. On his head an 

 old slouch hat, the brim turned down over his ears and 

 held there by a woolen comforter that was brought down 

 under his chin and tied around his neck in several folds 

 with a large knot in front, did not add any attractiveness 

 to his appearance, but it kept him warm and he "didn't 

 care nothin' fer style, eny way." A simple "hello" greeted 

 me as I entered and drew up to the stove beside him, 

 while Snap, who was lying at his feet, looked up good- 

 naturedly and tapped the floor once or twice with his 

 tail, in token of recognition. To my query as to how 

 things were going at the camp Chip replied: "It's bully. 

 Wen yer comin' up agin?" and without waiting for an 

 answer added, "Say, come 'n' go back with me this 

 niornin'; we ain't goin' ter do nothin' to-day but set 'round 

 'n' maybe ketch some fish through the ice. Shack's 

 makin' some snatch hooks 'n' said it 'Id be a good time 

 to ketch 'em." There was nothing to prevent, and after 

 a little more conversation, during which Chip manifested 

 a slight impatience to be going, I decided to accompany 

 him. Putting on his woolen mittens and holding them 

 to the fire for a last warming, he gathered up his few 

 packages and we started. 



In his visits to the village Chip had not once been 

 home, and as we had to pass there on our way I thought 

 he would want to stop for a moment; but he seemed to 

 avoid the place and hurried by. I was quite well aware 

 that his home was none of the pleasantost from the fact 

 that his stepfather was a shiftless fellow and given to 

 drink, who, when in his cups, was ill-natured and some- 

 times brutal. On more than one occasion Chip had been 

 the victim of his inequitable passion, even to the extent 

 of bodily injury and temporary expulsion from home; and 

 since his elder brother, who seemed to have a restraining 

 influence, had left home to provide for himself, Chip's fife 

 had been anything but a pleasant one. It was not strange, 

 therefore, that he should harbor a feeling of resentment 

 toward the man who was the cause of his adversity. 

 However, he had a tender regard for his mother, who was 

 a passive, delicate woman; but her gentler influence being 

 lost on her husband's callous disposition, she could offer 

 but little protection to her boy, and while she would have 

 been only too glad to keep him at home, her better judg- 

 ment prevailed, and she knew that he was better off 

 almost anywhere that would afford him shelter and food. 

 So when Chip had approached her with the proposition to 

 go and stay with Old Shack, she made no objection, but 

 supplied him, as far as possible, with extra clothing from 

 their scanty store. All this Chip had previously told me 

 in confidential moments, and my heart warmed in sym- 

 pathy for him. After we had passed the house I ventured 

 to inquire why he did not stop. Quickly turning, he 

 stopped, facing me, his eyes flashing fire as if offended, 

 but for a moment: then moving on more slowly, he said: 



"Won't yer tell nobody ef I tell yer somethin'?" I 

 assured him that I would not. "I ain't goin' home no 

 more ; I'm goin' ter stay up 't the shanty this winter 'n' 

 Ole Shack's goin' down ter the lake in the spring, 'n' ef I 

 can't git a job down there I c'n git one drivin' on the 

 canal anyway, 'n' next fall wen I come back I'll have 

 some money 'n' me 'n' Old Shack's goin' into partnership. 

 I'm goin' to learn all I kin 'bout trappin' this winter 'n* 

 then Ole Shack says it'll be more ekill like, 'n' we'll do 

 better." 



" But what will your folks say?" I inquired. 



"Darn the folks ! — no, I don't mean mam either." 

 His eyes softened. " But the ole man c'n git along -with- 

 out me, darn 'im ! I never done nothin' to him, 'n' I ain't 

 goin' ter stay 'n' be kicked round eny more. I got a 

 chance to do somethin' fer myself now 'n' I'm goin' ter 

 do it ! I seed mam in the store the last time I was down, 

 'n' she said the ole man was gittin' worse 'cause I want 

 ter stay with Ole Shack 'n' 's goin' ter set me to work 'n' 

 make me pay up for it in the spring. I'm goin' to work, 

 but by gol ! I ain't goin' ter work fer him ! Mam said I 

 couldn't do any worse, 'n' mebbe I c'n help her a little, 

 too. Ole Shack ses I c'n git ten dollars a month drivin' 

 'n' ef I have a steady job I c'n make 'bout seventy dollars 

 'n' it won't take much ter keep me. Then we'll buy a lot 

 o' new traps 'n' go up the river 'n' stay all winter." 

 Having thus delivered himself, his feelings breaking out 

 in alternating flashes of indignation and pleasant antici- 

 pation, he quickened his pace, letting me further into his 

 plans for the future as we proceeded, cautioning me, as 

 we neared the camp, " Don't yer tell nobody, 'cause the 

 ole man '11 do somethin' agin it ef he knows it." 



We had now approached so near to the camp that the 

 blue smoke from Old Shack's fire was seen ascending in a 

 straight column in the still, cold atmosphere, and no 

 more was said on the subject. Chip's Spirits revived as 

 we neared the door, and opening it, found Old Shack 

 just finishing an extra snatch hook which, aT he gave a 

 last turn to the lashing, he pronounced the besi he had 

 yet made. Holding it up for inspection, a long, slender 

 withe of ramrod-like proportions, with four large hooks 

 firmly lashed back to back to one end, Chip inquired, 

 "How yer goin' ter k*etch fish with that?" 



"Didn't ye ever see it done? Wal, 111 tell ye, 'n' after 

 ye git good 'n' warm I'll show ye. There's 's much in the 

 makin' o' the tool 's there is in the usin' on it. Some 

 fellers '11 take a stick 'iv pull the bark off 'n' finish it up 

 fancy like, then they'll tie on three 'r four big hooks 'n' 

 imagine they've got the best rig 'cause it's purty, 'n' when 

 they git tu fishin' they wonder why they can't ketch 

 fish. Wal, the reason is, that when a fish comes along 

 'n' sees a white shiny stick stickin' down in the water, it 

 kinder shies away f 'm it 'n' ye can't reach 'em. I always 

 leave the bark on, 'n' the rougher it looks the better it is, 

 'cause it's more nat'ral; 'n' I file the barbs off 'm the 

 hooks so 't when I git a fish out o' the hole I c'n shake it 

 off without any foolin'. Up near the head o' the river, 

 where I used tu live, there's a big pond where the water 

 spreads out sumthin' like this, only it's a good deal bigger. 

 Every winter a lot o' us 'Id git together 'n' hev a big time 

 fishin' through the ice. Sometimes we'd use tip-ups 'n' 

 live bait, but when bait was scarce we'd use snatch 

 hooks like this, 'n' it's a heap more fun tu, besides ye q'u 



